


The Leggings Hypothesis

by theprincessed



Series: Love, Sex and Magic: Random Ficlets [6]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, Leggings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 22:42:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theprincessed/pseuds/theprincessed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis arranges to meet Liam at a club wearing something slightly unusual…</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Leggings Hypothesis

Louis had told Liam that he’d meet him inside the club to save him waiting around in the grip of the London cold. Although his eyebrows had done that confused, little scrunchy move, he hadn’t objected but now, pulling up in a cab, Louis almost has the feeling that he wish he had. He’d taken way too long getting ready to go out - a hazard of having a full day off - and probably over-thought things like how to do his hair, what to wear and whether changing things up a bit was a good idea anyway. After all, Liam wasn’t the cautious teenager he once was. If something silly happened, these days he’d more likely giggle uproariously or go along with some teasing instead of making those sad doe eyes of concern. It didn’t help that often those looks were given to the other boys because Louis was usually the culprit and the thought of willingly setting _himself_ up for a fall made the fast-approaching embarrassment do somersaults in his stomach, so he swiftly assures himself _it’ll be funny_ and shivers as he gets out of the taxi without a jacket. He’d meant to pick up his denim off the back of one of the chairs in the kitchen but forgot in the middle of being preoccupied with everything else. It was the least of his worries though; the club probably heaving and sweaty and at least he didn’t have to worry about keeping an eye on any belongings. How did someone cope with a handbag on a night out? 

All he had to contend with on his person was his phone stuffed deep into his pocket, money and a key to get home. In fact, he switches his phone around; aware of the weird bulge it was making in his back pocket, and quickly smoothes his hands over his arse to catch any unsightly creases as he gets nearer to the entrance of the building, his heart picking up speed. He inwardly curses the echo of his boots on the still wet pavement as he walks, of which Harry had drawled about how lovely they would look on him until Louis rolled his eyes four months ago and bought them to shut him up. In addition to the simple, black footwear is something Louis probably shouldn’t still have but maybe that’s only true when they’ve actually stopped this tour because it’s part of a stage outfit. Whilst rooting around for something else in his bedroom, his eyes had caught a flash of bright blue and he knew instantly which t-shirt it was. It was plain but an intense colour and oddly feels like it’s shrunk in the wash as he swears that the material stretches tighter across his chest and biceps. He can’t exactly remember whether he’s accidentally-on-purpose worn and washed it so it’s his fault or whether Caroline found out about him following in Harry’s footsteps of borrowing things and only giving them back months later and put an evil plan of shrinkage together to serve him right, but either way he’s probably going to get an earful the next time they meet.

He passes security on the door very quickly and, although it’s half eleven at night, it’s still too early for people to be stumbling out so the paparazzi have not yet descended. He moves deep into the noise and heavy throng of people, extracting his phone to text Liam because he’s lazy and just a little bit anxious enough to put off actively finding him.

_i’m here, where are you ?_

_at the barrrrrr :)_ comes pinging back within seconds.

He sends off a _payne, you’ve changed !_ and starts to peer around, moving up onto the tips of his toes every now and again to try and get a better view amidst the sea of clubbers. In a surprising way, this has become Their Thing – enjoying some overpriced drinks and a bit of a boogie, probably taking drunken selfies at the end of that night that fortunately the world will (mostly) never see.

The bar is probably the only well-lit piece in the room so it’s easy to walk towards and that’s when he spots him. Liam is indeed propping up the bar but Louis hangs back for a moment just to watch - to linger along the line of Liam’s shoulders and the narrowest of hips – before he happens to take a drink from his glass and cast his eyes around at the same time. When his gaze lands on Louis, his eyes disappear into tiny, happy slits and his grin is big as he enthusiastically waves Louis over. He licks the corner of his mouth anxiously and takes a breath in before he moves closer, painfully aware of his gait because of the unusual restriction that isn’t skinny jeans. He also can’t forget that he’s been walking past a ton of people since he got in and yet nobody has pointed and laughed like he expects. Maybe when they try, he’s already walking away and his arse becomes the distraction they zero in on instead of what he’s wearing. When it’s constantly alluded to what an asset it is, he can’t say he minds.

Despite that, his confidence shrinks a bit as soon as he realises Liam will now properly see him and he can pinpoint the exact time he does. As its Liam, he starts at the feet and it’s the classic sweep upwards. Two seconds ago Louis was reassuring himself that he rarely blushes pink, damn it, but now a different kind of heat hits him in the gut as Liam’s expression slackens along with his mouth around his glass. His gaze flickers up to Louis’ chest and then lowers again, like he’s not sure what to look at or comment on first and eventually it’s time as Louis arrives in front of him.

“Er, this’d be the point where you laugh and call me ridiculous, mate.” he says when Liam hasn’t done more than blink for a full thirty seconds. “Or at least say something.”

“Erm…”

“ _Please_ ,” he adds a little more urgently, his insides squirming uncomfortably at this silent humiliation.

“Buttons?”

Louis’ face twists in confusion. “Eh?”

“I.” Squashed together by the bar through consequence, he watches Liam swallow with difficulty. “Buttons – do they have – buttons?”

“ _Why_?”

Suddenly, he curls his hand around Louis’ arm and _pulls_ , sending him stumbling a pace closer into his body and inclines his head to whisper. “I just need to know, Lou.”  
Except he doesn’t wait for the answer and Louis bites hard into his lip to muffle a surprised squeak as a hand drops to surreptitiously cup his crotch. He presses closer to hide the position, but effectively shoots himself in the foot by increasing the slight pressure, having to stare fixedly at Liam’s birthmark to keep his eyes open and alert. The thing is, he’d tried underwear and it wasn’t exactly comfortable with his choice tonight so he…chose go without. On the one hand, Liam’s just one layer of clothing away from touching his dick and that’s a good thing. But it’s also a bad thing because an erection right now, in _this_ outfit, would be really ill-timed and Liam’s exploring is doing nothing to dissuade it. When he slides his fingers beneath the looser hem of the t-shirt and traces the line of waistband, trying to make sense of things, Louis knocks him away.

“What the fuck are you doin’?” he hisses, eyes darting everywhere, “Not _here_.”

“Shit,” Liam’s eyes are wide, having confirmed the lack of fastenings. “Are you – is that – _leggings_? I didn’t even know they did them in leather, I mean, I know girls – ”

“They’re not,” Louis interrupts, fisting the hand hidden under the edge of the bar into the side of Liam’s checked shirt, “I believe the term is ‘wet look’. It’s just made to look like that,”

“Oh _fuck_ ,” he groans, as his shaky breath ruffles Louis’ fringe and his grip tightens on his bicep.

He tugs again and they stop in a corner, shrouded by more darkness than they know what to do with. It’s still dangerous, being out in public and so physically entangled, but Louis has clearly created a monster as Liam seems to have no such qualms or is too engrossed to remember the risk. He shivers at the thought that he’s ceased caring as Liam’s thigh presses between the meat of his and he touches him everywhere like all he wants to do is eat him up like dessert. He yanks Louis impossibly closer, encouraging him to use him, as they lock eyes and Louis decides why the hell not before he leans in and quickly nips at Liam’s jaw.

“Bathroom. Now.” he demands in a strained voice then strides off.

It’s another five minutes in a dirty stall of staring and whispery babbling as Liam gropes to reveal his cock and his arse from the shiny-black, slippery material before Louis can more confidently push him to his knees and make use of his pretty pink mouth.

He might not have got the reaction he expected, but he’d take this end result anyday.


End file.
